to Landon. He gives me an almost pitying look. When I find Jacob, he’s in a mouth lock with one of Aurora’s friends, I think her name is Grace, so I just leave him to it.
I’m out on the street when a small hand pulls my arm back, “Andrew.” I’d recognise that voice anywhere. I turn on the spot to see Clara Delos looking anxiously up at me. I wait for her to speak. I’ve made myself vulnerable enough for one night. “Did you mean what you said?”
“Clara that’s not the sort of thing I joke about,” the words come out harsher than I intend.
“Sorry... I didn’t know,” her eyes are soft and kind; compassionate.
“No one at school did,” I tell her, “except James.”
She’s nodding, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your problem...” I don’t understand why I sound so cold all of a sudden. Is it because I’ve let her see a part of me that I normally keep hidden; buried?
“I know but... can we go somewhere? Can we talk?”
“I don’t want to talk about my mother.”
“Not about your mother,” she says quietly, “not unless you want to. I want to talk about us.”
“Clara, you’ve made it clear there is no us,” I don’t know why I’m trying to push her away when she’s everything I want.
“Sometimes I’m wrong,” she all but whispers.
I sigh, considering my options, but as much as I might want to right now, I know I can’t walk away from her. Not now. Not ever. “You can come to my place if you want.”
My words hang in the air between us and she seems to take an age to respond, “okay.” I’m relieved when she finally answers me. I’m feeling more exposed right now than I’ve ever felt before.
“I was going to walk,” I tell her, “I don’t live too far away.”
“Alright, we can walk,” she takes my hand in hers much to my surprise and falls into step beside me. She’s quiet. She doesn’t speak and I don’t either. I don’t want to ruin the moment. I’m scared that I’ll say the wrong thing and lose whatever advantage I’ve gained. My skin tingles under her touch. I squeeze her fingers gently in my own, “you’re cold.”
“It’s January,” she says simply.
“You should have gloves on,” I tell her as I pull her hand into the pocket of my coat, still holding it in my own.
“I left them in the bar,” she tells me. “I sort of just ran out after you.”
“At least you grabbed your coat,” I grin at her.
There’s an awkward tension when I let her into my apartment. I lead her down the corridor and into the living room. “Can I get you something to drink?” I try to break into the strange atmosphere between us.
“A glass of water would be great,” she’s looking around, probably acknowledging the bareness of the walls. I don’t put photos on the walls. In fact, I don’t think I have a single family photograph in my entire apartment. My mother has more than I can count on the walls of her house. She has always documented our family’s happiest moments with her camera. To look at her walls, you’d think we were the happiest family alive, but that just isn’t true. In reality, those happy moments were few and far between. That’s why I don’t put photographs on my walls. I don’t want them to be a lie. If I ever put photos on my wall, they’ll tell the truth.
“Sure. Make yourself comfortable,” I tell her.
I wander over to the kitchen area, secretly disappointed to have to turn my back on Clara. I pull a glass out of the cupboard above the sink. I fill the glass with ice and water from the fridge before turning back towards Clara. She’s sat on the corner sofa. She’s taken her shoes off and pulled her feet up on the chair next to her. It’s a shame. She looked bloody sexy in those black six inch heels, but then again the sight of her in my apartment is enough to make me hard. I’m perhaps the closest I’ve ever been to getting what I want; Clara Delos. I pass her the glass and watch as she takes a sip. I
I’m out on the street when a small hand pulls my arm back, “Andrew.” I’d recognise that voice anywhere. I turn on the spot to see Clara Delos looking anxiously up at me. I wait for her to speak. I’ve made myself vulnerable enough for one night. “Did you mean what you said?”
“Clara that’s not the sort of thing I joke about,” the words come out harsher than I intend.
“Sorry... I didn’t know,” her eyes are soft and kind; compassionate.
“No one at school did,” I tell her, “except James.”
She’s nodding, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your problem...” I don’t understand why I sound so cold all of a sudden. Is it because I’ve let her see a part of me that I normally keep hidden; buried?
“I know but... can we go somewhere? Can we talk?”
“I don’t want to talk about my mother.”
“Not about your mother,” she says quietly, “not unless you want to. I want to talk about us.”
“Clara, you’ve made it clear there is no us,” I don’t know why I’m trying to push her away when she’s everything I want.
“Sometimes I’m wrong,” she all but whispers.
I sigh, considering my options, but as much as I might want to right now, I know I can’t walk away from her. Not now. Not ever. “You can come to my place if you want.”
My words hang in the air between us and she seems to take an age to respond, “okay.” I’m relieved when she finally answers me. I’m feeling more exposed right now than I’ve ever felt before.
“I was going to walk,” I tell her, “I don’t live too far away.”
“Alright, we can walk,” she takes my hand in hers much to my surprise and falls into step beside me. She’s quiet. She doesn’t speak and I don’t either. I don’t want to ruin the moment. I’m scared that I’ll say the wrong thing and lose whatever advantage I’ve gained. My skin tingles under her touch. I squeeze her fingers gently in my own, “you’re cold.”
“It’s January,” she says simply.
“You should have gloves on,” I tell her as I pull her hand into the pocket of my coat, still holding it in my own.
“I left them in the bar,” she tells me. “I sort of just ran out after you.”
“At least you grabbed your coat,” I grin at her.
There’s an awkward tension when I let her into my apartment. I lead her down the corridor and into the living room. “Can I get you something to drink?” I try to break into the strange atmosphere between us.
“A glass of water would be great,” she’s looking around, probably acknowledging the bareness of the walls. I don’t put photos on the walls. In fact, I don’t think I have a single family photograph in my entire apartment. My mother has more than I can count on the walls of her house. She has always documented our family’s happiest moments with her camera. To look at her walls, you’d think we were the happiest family alive, but that just isn’t true. In reality, those happy moments were few and far between. That’s why I don’t put photographs on my walls. I don’t want them to be a lie. If I ever put photos on my wall, they’ll tell the truth.
“Sure. Make yourself comfortable,” I tell her.
I wander over to the kitchen area, secretly disappointed to have to turn my back on Clara. I pull a glass out of the cupboard above the sink. I fill the glass with ice and water from the fridge before turning back towards Clara. She’s sat on the corner sofa. She’s taken her shoes off and pulled her feet up on the chair next to her. It’s a shame. She looked bloody sexy in those black six inch heels, but then again the sight of her in my apartment is enough to make me hard. I’m perhaps the closest I’ve ever been to getting what I want; Clara Delos. I pass her the glass and watch as she takes a sip. I
Similar Books
